


On a Sunday Afternoon

by shotofvanilla



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Deaf Character, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-07
Updated: 2014-01-07
Packaged: 2018-01-07 20:57:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1124295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shotofvanilla/pseuds/shotofvanilla
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel is a boy with a special song. Dean's a boy armed with post-it notes and looking for a park bench.</p>
            </blockquote>





	On a Sunday Afternoon

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [this video](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GCxCVWOif8c#t=272)
> 
> Original posted on [tumblr](http://youreyesarelikestarlightnow.tumblr.com/post/72534960744/deaf-cas-for-reem-because-of-the-deaf-cas-theme)

The first day Dean meets Cas, it's a warm Sunday afternoon in the park.

He's shouldering a backpack loaded with various notebooks for his classes. Normally he'd be studying in his dorm, but the room is simultaneously too loud and too quiet with his roommate gone and constant noise of college kids in the hallway. He figures some fresh air away from campus will do him some good, at the very least.

When he gets to the park, his eyes scan around for an available bench to sit on. Most of them are filled with people of all sorts, from mothers chatting while they watch their children play, to old men playing chess and feeding birds, to businessmen and women stopping for a quick lunch break or cup of coffee. He finally spots one under a shady tree with a sole occupant: a boy who looks to be about his age, head bent with the daily newspaper in his lap and ear buds on.

A boy who looks up and watches Dean taking his seat with the bluest eyes he's ever seen.

While Dean's momentarily taken aback, the boy smiles at him shyly and returns to his newspaper, where he appears to be filling out the crossword puzzle. Dean reaches into his bag and pulls out one of the notebooks in there; he doesn't actually know which, because he's not really thinking about studying anymore. Still, he opens it up on his lap and stares blankly at the page for a few moments, trying to pull his thoughts together.

There's a cute boy sitting next to him on a park bench, and if he doesn't say something soon, too much time will have passed for it not to be awkward.

_Just talk to him_ , he tells himself.

So he does. Leans over and says, as casually as he can, "It's a nice day out, isn't it?"

He's met with a wall of resounding silence. Nothing. The boy doesn't do so much as look up at him. Dean feels his cheeks warm with embarrassment as he sits back against the bench and looks back at his notebook.

_Maybe it's the ear buds,_ he reasons. _He might not have heard you._

After a few minutes of arguing with himself, Dean leans over again and taps the boy lightly on the shoulder. "Can I borrow your pen for a sec?

The boy looks up with a small, polite smile on his face. His eyes (Those have got to be contacts, right? No one's eyes are really _that_ blue) seem questioning.

"Your pen," Dean repeats.

The boy's smile turns apologetic as he gestures to the ear buds.

"Oh...your pen," Dean says again, confused but this time making a writing motion with his hand. _Why doesn't he just take the ear buds out?_

The boy hands over his pen with an enthusiastic nod and a brighter grin, effectively wiping the confusion from Dean's mind. He writes some inane note in the margin of his book (it could just be a bunch of scribbles for all he knows), and gives the pen back with a short, "Thanks," and a charming grin.

They don't speak for the rest of their time on the bench together, but when the boy gets up and leaves he gives Dean a happy wave, and somehow it doesn't seem like too much of a loss.

*~*~*

They see each other again three days later.

This time Dean is the one sitting on the bench first, actually making some headway in his history notes for the past half hour or so, until the same boy comes and takes the seat next to him.

Looking away, Dean can't help but smile to himself. After all, the boy wouldn't have come back and sat down if he had been annoyed with Dean last time, right?

He scoots over and asks, loudly, "What are you listening to?"

The boy looks up at him but only points to the ear buds again before returning to his crossword.

Dean looks away and bites his lip, and then gets a sudden idea.

He leans down and roots around in his bag until he comes up with a pad of plain post-it notes and a marker. Neatly, he writes, _What are you listening to?,_ sticking both the note and the blank pad on the bench in the space between him and the boy. He quickly looks away, but out of the corner of his eye he watches as the boy smiles and picks up the pad.

_A special song,_ he writes in neat cursive.

_Can I listen?_

_No, I'm embarrassed._

Embarrassed? Dean doesn't know how to respond to that, so instead he settles on the next best thing.

_My name is Dean._

_Castiel._

The bench space between them quickly fills up with pale yellow notes, the conversation flowing as smoothly as if they were speaking. It takes more time to pass the pad back and forth between them, and Dean still wonders a little why they're doing this, why Castiel--Cas, as Dean quickly nicknamed him-- won't just take out the ear buds, but there's something strangely enjoyable about using the post-its, and so he doesn't really mind.  Cas is formal in his writing, but funny too, a wry sort of humor apparent even on paper.

The day ticks on and Dean can feel the sun slowly going down. He's starting to run out of post-it   anyway, so he finally sucks it up and writes, _I'd love to see you again. Can I have your number?_ If his hand's a little shakier, he's sure Cas won't notice.

_Can you?_

_Fine. May_ _I have your number?_

His heart sinks when he reads Cas' reply. _No. I don't have one._

_That's a terrible lie._ He grins jokingly, but it feels a little forced.

_It’s not. If you want, I'll be here again tomorrow._

_I'll see you tomorrow then._ He draws a wide smile at the bottom of the page.

Cas doesn't write anything in reply to that, but he laughs a little. It's a quiet sort of laugh, almost as if he's trying to suppress it. He waves at Dean again when he gets up and leaves their post-it note covered bench a little while later.

Before he leaves, Dean carefully gathers up all the notes and stuffs them into the front pocket of his bag for safekeeping, not that anyone’s gonna know that.

*~*~*

The next day finds Dean sitting on the bench early in the afternoon. He and Cas didn't specify a time, and he wishes they had, because all he's doing now is worrying. What if he gets stood up? Can he get stood up if this isn't really a date? Is this a date?

His worrying ceases at the hands of a bright blue post-it note stuck to the notebook in front of him.

_Hello, Dean._

He grins as Cas sits next to him, this time leaving almost no room between them. _You’re late,_ he writes, sticking the note to Cas' leg.

Cas' reply of _Shut up_ is carefully stuck to Dean's forehead.

The time passes much like it did the day before. Dean teases and makes ridiculous guesses as to what Cas is listening to while Cas deftly changes the subject every time he can. They talk about their families, their majors, their interests, places they want to visit, and foods they like to eat. Midway through writing a carefully crafted argument about why burgers should be a food group all on their own, Dean gets interrupted by Cas placing another post it note on top of his latest reply.

_Do you want to listen to my song?_

When Dean looks over at him, Cas looks faintly nervous.

_I’d love to_

Slowly, Cas pulls the ear buds from his ears, wipes them on his cardigan, and hands them to Dean, staring at him the whole time.

Strangely, Dean is suddenly nervous as well, and excited, eager to finally hear this "special song" Cas has been listening to this whole time.

But all he hears is silence. Complete and total silence.

His brow furrows and he glances at Cas in confusion, wondering if he's accidentally paused the song by mistake. "That's weird I don't hear anyth-"

And then Cas' hand comes up and he makes a circular motion above his chest with his fist before tapping it twice. It takes him a moment to realize Cas is _signing_ , like proper ASL signing and isn’t Dean glad he took that as his language course last semester, because now he recognizes as Cas' hand carefully forms four letters: _D-E-A-F._

The realization dawns on him quietly. His next thought is about what an insensitive jerk he is, because he's pretty sure about ten of his post it notes have been ramblings about his favorite bands and his music collection.

Cas takes his ear buds back and scoots back to the other side of the bench, almost as if he's waiting for Dean to leave.

Instead, Dean moves until he's next to him again and deliberately places another sticky note on Cas' knee. _I don't care. You're still beautiful._


End file.
